Sleep
by Order of Arcadia
Summary: Drabble series about Steve and Bucky falling asleep in strange places and usually on top of each other, with guest appearances from the other Avengers. Pure fluff, no slash, Remembered AU.
1. On the couch

_On the couch_

For all Sam Wilson knew, Steve and Bucky had been watching some TV show in the living room on their floor of Avengers' Tower. Evidently, the show hadn't been very interesting.

Steve Rogers lay on his back, shouldered up against the backrest and fast asleep along the length of the couch. Bucky Barnes was on his stomach, against Steve's side, and almost falling off the edge of the couch, using Steve's arm as a pillow.

One of the two was snoring, and after watching for some time Sam figured out that it was Bucky.

Whatever show they'd been watching was long over. The TV droned on behind him, probably offering white noise for the two slumbering ones.

Sam fought his compulsion to turn off the TV and left the room. He later returned with Natasha.

They both took up similar stances, watching silently as the super-soldiers slept on the couch. Then Natasha pulled out her phone.

Natasha took a picture of Steve and Bucky and sent a Snapchat to Clint with the caption, "lethal puppies".

Sam had no idea how he'd had enough self-control to refrain from laughing this whole time.

"This happen often?" asked Natasha at a whisper.

"Oh yeah," Sam whispered back.

Natasha snapped more pictures.

One of the two on the couch gave a slight moan in his sleep. Natasha and Sam both tensed, ready to run away if it became necessary.

Inhaling deeply, Bucky rolled over away from the edge and curled up on Steve's side. Slightly wakened by the disturbance, Steve shook his head, his eyebrows creasing as he swiped numbly at his face.

Sam did _not_ know how in the world he wasn't laughing.

Finally, Steve's arm made contact with the side of Bucky's head, and he rolled slightly, letting that arm fall limp over Bucky's shoulder.

After a moment of quiet, Bucky snored—loudly—into Steve's shirt.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. He clamped both arms around his sides, wheezing from trying to hold back his laughter.

Natasha wore a rare, wide grin. "Thanks, Wilson," she murmured as she snapped more pictures. "I owe you for this one."

Sam was there when Clint checked his Snapchat, and the archer almost died of suffocation from laughter.

_tbc..._

* * *

**A/N: I figured I'd do something different, just for fun, because we need it after the trauma of Endgame. ****This will probably be a weekly series, updating on Saturdays. **

**I've got a list of prompts I want to write, but I always need more! Leave a sleep-cute request in a review (characters, time/place, situation, etc.) and yours might be the topic of the next drabble. **

**Reviews are puppies.**


	2. On the floor

_On the floor_

_"C'mon, it'll be fun. We'll pull the cushions off the couch and sleep on the floor, just like when we were kids."_

It had all started when Steve misplaced the keys to his motorcycle. Watching the blonde man fumble through his pockets, Bucky suddenly caught an image of _suits, and the chime of a church bell in the distance, and I should find that spare key, and it was Steve, but he was smaller and I knew him—I knew him—I _knew_ him!_

And the motorcycle ride was forgotten in an episode of "guess the memory" that left Steve grinning like he'd just been handed a million dollars, and hugging Bucky like he _was_ a million dollars.

_ "Cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line."_

They'd eaten all the ice cream in the freezer and decided to further celebrate by sleeping on couch cushions for the night.

The living room on Steve's floor in the Tower was dark, but under heaps of blankets Bucky felt safe and warm. He'd always loved to have several blankets at once during those freezing winters back in Brooklyn. HYDRA wasn't keen on comforts, so blankets were unmistakably a motif of his new life in freedom.

And though Bucky would never say it, he liked that these blankets smelled like Steve. It was like getting a perpetual hug from his best friend while he slept.

Steve settled his bulk onto the couch cushions beside Bucky and rolled over to give him a grin. "How d'ya like it, Buck?" he asked, laying his head in the crook of his arm.

Bucky smiled. "S' okay," he said, nestling into the covers.

"Yeah. Not quite the same as when we were kids, I guess, but—" Steve pulled the covers up over his shoulders and winked at Bucky. "Not too bad," he said, shutting his eyes.

Bucky smiled, content to watch his friend's peaceful face.

"G'night, Buck," Steve said softly, not opening his eyes.

"G'night," whispered Bucky.

He kept watch over Steve for hours into the night until the blonde man started to dream, his eyelids quivering slightly and every breath coming quiet and slow.

Then Bucky shut his eyes.

Steve chose that moment to snore.

Bucky was awake for another hour.

_tbc..._

* * *

**A/N: Keep the suggestions coming! I'm getting lots of great ideas for the future.**

**Reviews are blankets.**


	3. At the table

_At the table_

Sam, Steve, and Bucky were halfway through lunch at Steve's apartment when Bucky's head slumped down, his brown hair splaying over the tabletop, and he fell asleep.

Steve reacted with belated panic, trying to ascertain that Bucky hadn't hurt himself or fainted from some kind of panic attack.

Sam just shook his head and put down his sandwich. "Go take a nap, Rogers," he ordered. "I got this."

Steve shot him a look of bleary defiance. But even super-soldiers start to get dark circles under their eyes when they're sleep-deprived.

Sam gave a firm shake of his head. "I know he has nightmares. If he hasn't been sleeping well, I'm willing to bet you haven't either."

Steve put on a lackluster excuse for this Captain America 'commander face'. "M' fine, Wilson," he muttered, taking a sip of his soda.

Sam held back a sigh and stood up to get more ice for his drink.

When he returned, Steve had fallen asleep, chin in his hand, causing his cheek to bunch up over his fist.

"Stubborn," muttered Sam.

Then he moved Steve's food out of the way and let Steve sleep with his arm for a pillow. When the super-soldiers woke up—both with red marks on their faces left by the tabletop—Sam was watching Pawn Stars on Steve's TV.

_tbc..._

* * *

**A/N: Haven't had a lot of time to do any writing recently, so I'm just posting already-written pieces. But keep the suggestions coming! I'm loving all of these ideas.**

**Reviews are lunchtime naps.**


	4. In a nest

_In a nest (aka Barton is a bad influence)_

Steve was very late in coming home from searching for Loki's scepter in HYDRA bases. When he woke up the next morning and went to check on Bucky, he had no idea what to make of what he saw.

Bucky must have pulled every spare pillow out of every closet in Avengers' Tower and laid them out in some kind of flower-shaped array on his bed. The deadly ex-assassin Bucky Barnes was curled up in a deep navy blue blanket in the center of the pillow ring, snoring contentedly and dead to the world.

After smiling for a _very_ long time at the unadulterated bliss Bucky was clearly enjoying at this moment, Steve pulled out his phone, took a picture of the scene in front of him, and sent it by group text to the rest of the Avengers, adding, _"Anyone care to explain?"_

Meanwhile, Clint Barton nearly spit out his orange juice when he checked his phone.

_"Chto?"_ "What is it?" "Are you dying?" asked Natasha, Bruce, and Tony respectively, and Thor looked up from munching on a waffle.

"I can't believe he actually did it!" Clint exclaimed, bellowing in laughter.

"Who did what?" asked Tony.

The bird-themed sniper flashed the picture on his phone at the team and pointed wildly to it. "Barnes built a nest!"

_tbc..._

* * *

**A/N: Long-time readers might remember the "snipers' pillow nest" from Plastic Guns and Foam Bullets. Clearly, Clint is a bad influence.**

**Guess whose schedule finally opened up for the summer? Expect to see your suggestions taking story form in the next few weeks!**

**Reviews are nests.**


	5. In a puppy pile

_In a puppy pile_

Natasha had no idea how an all-night movie marathon for the guys could end up like this, but in hindsight, she shouldn't have been surprised.

Every blanket and couch cushion on the Tower had been amalgamated on the floor in front of the massive flat-screen TV—which still played on the menu music from the last DVD—and there on the floor in their jeans (or in Tony's case, spiffy black slacks) slept pretty much every last one of the Avengers who was a male and could sleep.

Steve was in the middle of the group, sprawled on his side and acting as a pillow for about four different people at once. One of those four was Thor, who lay with his back roughly parallel against Steve's and snored like a weed-whacker. Tony looked like he'd lost a battle with sitting up and slumped over Steve's shoulder, one arm slung out haphazardly. Clint had a relatively un-embarrassing spot on Steve' arm, his legs crossed over the chest of Bucky, who slept on Steve's thigh and looked contentedly dead to the world.

Sam and Rhodey must have stayed for the party, because the first was curled up near the head of the pile with Steve's head on his knee, and the second was the unfortunate recipient of Tony's drool on his shirt. But the best of all was Pietro, who lay face-down on top of three of the guys, his legs propped up on Thor, his stomach arched over Steve, and his head pillowed in his arms on Clint's chest.

Every last one but Steve looked some degree of hammered (no pun intended on Thor's part).

And Natasha had already observed all of this by the time she'd taken pictures of the scene from six different angles.

Yet it did occur to her that someone was missing from the group. Vision, yes, but he didn't sleep in the traditional sense, so it was safe to assume he'd floated off somewhere else. But there was one more person who ought to be there with his fellow Avengers—and when she considered that, her heart sank a little.

That was when the elevator doors rolled open and Bruce Banner stepped onto the Common Floor, a mug of coffee in hand. He took a long look at the scene in front of him and seemed to be fighting an 'oh, brother' smile.

"Some party they had for you, Bruce," teased Natasha, just loud enough to be heard in a break between Thor's snores.

Bruce chuckled and shook his head. "Pardon me if I turned in early," he whispered back, heading for the kitchen.

"I think it's sweet of them," Natasha insisted, bending down to get a good shot of one sleeper's undignified expression.

"They're crazy," retorted Bruce, but his tone implied that he agreed.

Sam must not have been as shot as the other guys, because he cracked an eye open to see Natasha poised with her phone over his head.

The wing-man glared at the super-spy and muttered, "I swear, Nat, if you post this anywhere—"

"Not at chance, Wilson," answered Natasha. "On my honor."

If Jane Foster miscalculated an atmospheric disturbance because of an unexplained text on her phone; if Wanda Maximoff woke up to an alarm and a hilarious photograph from Natasha; if Laura Barton had to hide her laughter in a pantry to keep from waking the kids; and if Pepper Potts shot back a text that said, _"Thanks for derailing in international trade meeting,"_ well—that's just how things go with the Avengers.

_tbc..._

* * *

**A/N: None of the Avengers are safe from the sleep cutes! This one was actually pre-written, but I hope it satisfies Princess Starberry's need to see movie nights and Sam in the pileup. **

**Reviews are puppy piles.**


	6. In a shopping cart

_In a shopping cart_

Wanda Maximoff had to assume that the Winter Soldier had to find sleep in strange places. She and Pietro found Bucky Barnes in a shopping cart at the back of a parking lot, head nestled in his arms and his feet poking out in front of him.

"They will be looking for him at the Tower—" began Wanda, before Pietro grinned and thought so loudly about a prank that Wanda could have heard it a mile away.

"Pietro, no," she scolded him—half-heartedly. She knew her brother, and she knew it wouldn't dissuade him.

"Come on!" he persisted, waving his long arms. "He will laugh."

"It is not kind," retorted Wanda, but even she had to smile at the picture.

Pietro projected another detail of his plan into her mind, and Wanda had to bite her lip to keep from giggling like a child.

"See! Even you laugh!" insisted Pietro.

"Fine," agreed Wanda. Pietro wore a mile-long grin. "But you do not get the Sharpie pen."

"Deal," agreed Pietro.

* * *

Bucky Barnes woke up in an out-of-the-way corner of a public park. He almost panicked before recognizing the place.

There was no way he could have drifted there. His watch said he'd only been asleep for twenty minutes, and the store was straight across town.

"Barton," he grumbled.

But he was corrected when he climbed out of the shopping cart and saw a series of Sokovian words scrawled down his metal arm. Reading upside down, he found that it said, _"If found, please return to Steve Rogers."_

"Maximoff," he growled through a wicked grin. This, he actually found stupidly hilarious.

Then he caught sight of his reflection in the shiny surface of his arm. Scrawled on his face was a long, curly mustache.

Now that was embarrassing. Growling and covering his face with his flesh hand, Bucky began the long hike back to the Tower.

Everyone was assembled on the Common Floor of the Tower. Both Clint and Tony did some version of a spit-take when they saw Bucky. The others, including Vision, each looked somewhere between amused and confused. And Steve—Steve was making a valiant effort not to laugh.

Wanda and Pietro looked as innocent as doves.

"You'll pay for this, Maximoff," asserted Bucky, letting whichever twin was responsible take the guilt.

Pietro and Wanda pointed to each other and blurted, "It was her idea!" "It was his idea!" respectively. Pietro hissed, "Liar!" and red energy pulsed from Wanda's eyes.

Bucky rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom.

Steve had so far refrained from laughing. Putting on his best Captain face, he crossed his arms at Pietro and Wanda and asked, "All right, I'm fine with the mustache—but you didn't write anything rude on his arm, did you?"

Wanda gave Steve an angelic smile. "I did not write anything of which you would not approve, Captain."

When Steve later asked him what it said, Bucky gladly translated, and Steve blushed red up to his eyes.

_tbc..._

* * *

**A/N: And with that, I've run out of pre-written chapters, which is good, because I need that nudge to start writing your requests. LOL! Keep them coming if there's something you'd like to see!**

**Reviews are shopping carts.**


	7. On a train

_On a train_

It had all started when Clint let slip on a Skype call that he was taking the kids to Coney Island.

"You're goin' where?" asked Bucky, leaning over Pietro's shoulder to see the tablet screen.

"Off! Get off," protested Pietro, and shoved a grinning Bucky away from him as Wanda laughed on his other side.

"Coney!" Clint's voice replied. His grin was a little pixelated on the screen, but still a mile wide. "It's Laura's birthday, and she's been so busy with the kids while I'm workin' that I want to give her a break. Plus, it's an excuse to get Pietro on a roller-coaster."

"Bet it will not go fast enough," said Pietro.

"Bet it will," Clint shot back.

Wanda shook her head. "I am not going anywhere near roller-coasters. Heights and going very fast, no thank you."

"That's fine, Wanda," said Clint. "Plenty else to see. And you can help me hold Nathaniel!"

"I like the baby," said Pietro, crowing a little. "Got my name. He's fat."

"He's not fat," said Clint.

"Did we go to Coney?" Bucky asked Steve, who'd walked up behind them with a sandwich and a cup of coffee.

Steve grinned. "Yeah, we did. Before the serum. I threw up."

Pietro barked in laughter. Wanda covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling.

"I find that hard to believe," she told Steve.

"I was tiny and sick all the time anyway," Steve answered. "And you probably don't wanna know what was in those hot dogs."

Wanda shuddered. "I'm not eating the food there either!"

Bucky's face gained a trouble-making smirk, and he leaned over to the tablet again. "Hey, Barton. Got room for two more?"

"You are coming?" asked Pietro, shooting up to look at Bucky with a mile-wide grin.

Steve groaned for show, but even he was fighting a smile.

"I'm not paying your way, but if you grandpas wanna tag along, I won't stop you," Clint answered with a grin. "The more, the merrier!"

"Save the date, then," said Bucky. "I'm dragging Steve there."

"You got it, sniper pal."

* * *

It was a long day of running around in the heat, standing in lines, eating dubious sugary foods, riding on really fast coasters, and taking turns watching Nathaniel in the stroller and accompanying Lila and Cooper to the nearest bathrooms.

Nobody lost their lunch—except Nathaniel, but he was only drinking his bottle, so it was fine. Clint assured Bucky—between bouts of laughter—that there are far worse things to have on one's shirt than baby spit-up. Bucky was not so sure and tried to blot out the stain with a napkin while Wanda and Pietro laughed and Steve just beamed at him for some reason.

Everyone was hot, tired, and very happy when they piled onto the train on the way back home. All five of the adults—Wanda and Pietro included—took up most of a bench on the side of the train, and the three kids had switched from one person's lap to another until they got tired and finally fell asleep.

Clint sat beside Steve and was very quiet, holding a slumbering Nathaniel on his chest and patting the baby to keep him asleep. Steve had to smile, even though the sight twisted a little something in his chest.

He was happy for Clint. He'd leave it at that. Someone had managed to find some normalcy and happiness in this crazy job, and maybe there was a chance that Steve could to, some way.

But turning to his other side made Steve's bittersweet smile turn into a mile-wide grin.

Bucky had seized a spot between the Maximoff twins, and he was fast asleep with Wanda's head on his flesh shoulder and Pietro drooling on his metal arm. But even better, Lila had been sitting in Wanda's lap when she nodded off and was now slumped a little into the space between Wanda and Bucky, and Cooper was sandwiched between Bucky and Pietro with the metal arm draped over him like a heavy blanket.

Moving as quietly as he could—and earning a trouble-making grin from Clint when the archer realized what he was doing—Steve pulled the Stark-phone out of his pocket and snapped as many pictures as he dared, then quickly sat back down before Bucky's "Steve is doing something stupid" sense could wake him up.

Clint leaned over, and Steve got the hint and showed him the best picture.

Clint grinned. "Deadly assassin," he mouthed to Steve and rolled his eyes.

"Right?" Steve mouthed back. He stared at the picture for a little while, then at the scene beside him, smiling until it almost broke his face. Then he whispered, "Thanks for doing this, Clint."

Clint grinned and whispered back, very seriously, still patting his baby's bottom, "It was my utmost pleasure. Send that to Nat."

* * *

**A/N: DEADLINES. I wrote this yesterday, right before work, because I am a master procrastinator. But it is done, and I'm very happy with it! ****I don't know enough about Coney Island or the trains in New York to write this in much detail, but I hope what little I wrote is accurate enough. **

**I double-teamed this suggestion - Mellia Bee's prompt of "falling asleep on transportation (public or private)" and Princess Starberry's suggestion to include the Barton kids. Along with the honorary Barton kids, Wanda and Pietro, because I cannot get enough of them. Thanks so much! If there's anything you'd like to see, keep the suggestions coming.**

**Reviews are dubious sugary carnival food.**


	8. On a national landmark

_On a national landmark_

Bucky Barnes and Peter Parker were staring up at the Arch.

The Avengers were in St. Louis for some kind of a PR stunt, but as two of the not-so-heavy-hitters on the team, neither Bucky nor Peter were in very much demand to give speeches. So while the others were busy, they were bored, and they'd wound up in a quiet park on the edge of the river, craning their necks up.

"That's really big," said Peter, stating the obvious.

Bucky made a small noise of agreement.

The Arch _was_ big. Bigger than any of the skyscrapers behind it. He'd learned that it was built after—well, after he fell, and before Steve rescued him—so as far as he was concerned, this was an impressive sign of what the new century had to offer. And the park was quiet, shaded with trees, with only the occasional tourists wandering around, so it was definitely more his speed in terms of a tourist attraction.

Peter glanced over his shoulders and tipped his head toward Bucky. "I think could climb it," he whispered.

Bucky felt his eyebrows jump towards his hairline. "You could?" he asked, turning to look down at the kid.

"Yeah." Peter made little miming motions with his fingers spread. "I, uh—I stick to stuff."

Bucky nodded slowly. Somehow the mental image of this spindly kid stuck to the side of a building was a little unnerving and hilarious at the same time. Then he grinned. "Bet I could climb it faster."

Peter snorted and crossed his skinny arms. "Bet you couldn't."

"Bet I could."

"I'm definitely faster."

"Doubt that."

"I'll race you."

"Bring it on."

Peter grinned and started to back away. He was still wearing civilian clothes, with a backpack on, so he harshly whispered, "Okay, I'm gonna go get the suit on and come back. Don't go anywhere! Don't—no head starts allowed."

"I won't. I'm right here," said Bucky.

"I can still see you!" Peter shouted at him from a distance. "Don't move! I'll be right back." Then he turned and took off running, weaving through the tourists with the backpack thumping on his back.

* * *

The rules were simple. Start from opposite sides of the Arch. Peter would give the countdown, since Bucky's enhanced hearing could pick it up even from the other side of the park. First one to the top of the building would win.

Peter had already gathered some oohing and ahhing and picture-taking tourists, and Bucky some confused and curious onlookers, before they began.

"Hi!" said Peter, waving to the crowd. "Hi there. No, no pictures please. Well, maybe just a couple. This isn't Avengers business, nobody's in trouble, it's okay."

Bucky, still able to hear him, snorted.

Peter scooted up to the stainless steel wall. "Okay, Mr. Barnes, on the count of three."

Bucky stood at the base of the wall and prepared to jump. The onlookers murmured behind him.

"Three...two..." Peter paused, then blurted at once, "one-go!" and jumped.

Bucky leaped as high as he could and wedged the metal fingertips between the sheets of stainless steel. Tourists gasped and shouted to each other to start recording, but Bucky ignored them as he continued to scale the sheer side of the building in leaps and grapples.

Peter easily shimmied up the metal panels. Bucky's enhanced metabolism kept him going at a steady rate, but Peter started to get winded halfway up. It was a little while later when Peter shot a string of webbing into the inside curve of the arch and swung upwards, whooping and hollering.

"Hey!" barked Bucky. "That's cheating!"

"You didn't specify 'no web'!" Peter shouted back, firing another string to pull him higher up the arch.

Bucky growled and kept climbing.

* * *

Peter technically got there first, but they agreed on a draw. The wind was brisk and the air thinner at the top of the Arch, and Peter whisked off his mask and gasped for breath. "Wow," he breathed.

Bucky had to agree. From where he stood, he could see miles up and down the wide, brown Mississippi River, and even into the Illinois side. If he turned around, the rooftops of the entire city were laid out under them.

Peter sat on the edge of the stainless steel, swinging his feet, with his backpack on and the mask in his hand.

A thought struck Bucky. "Can you—can you do the spider thing?"

"What?" asked Peter, turning to him.

"You know. When they come down from the ceiling on just a string..."

Peter blinked. "Oh." He looked far, far down past his feet. "Uh, yeah, hang on a sec."

After fitting the mask back on, Peter crawled to the underside of the Arch. Bucky lay on his stomach and craned his head over the edge.

Eventually, Peter appeared, upside down with his hands and feet holding on to a single string of web as he descended.

He made the mistake of looking at the ground. The trees and people below were just tiny specks. Immediately he lifted his head again.

"Whoa," he said faintly. "That's...that's really high."

"You good, kid?" asked Bucky.

"Yeah! Yeah, Mr. Barnes, I'm good," answered Peter. He looked again and didn't flinch this time. "Actually, this is kinda nice. Can we hang out here for a while?"

"Sure." Bucky rolled onto his back and folded his arms over his chest, feeling the heat of the stainless steel warmed by the sun. "We got the others to wait for anyway."

* * *

Bucky had almost drifted off into a nap when he realized that he hadn't heard from the kid in a while. He rolled over and poked his head over the side.

To his surprise, Peter had created himself a hammock of web between the sides of the Arch, and he had his backpack open and some kind of papers in his hand. The mask was pulled up slightly so that only his eyes were covered, and Peter was chewing on the eraser of his pencil.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "What's that?"

Peter looked up, startled, and then slightly embarrassed. "Uh—homework."

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. "We're on an Avengers trip and you've got homework?"

"I have an exam!" Peter began to stuff papers into his backpack. "And Mr. Stark says I have to pass high school to be an Avenger."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, snorted, and rolled back onto his back. "Okay."

* * *

The press conference finally released a few hours later. The rest of the Avengers were still in uniform (save Bruce, for obvious reasons) when they realized that the whole group wasn't together.

"Hey, has anyone seen the kid?" asked Tony.

"Where's Bucky?" asked Steve at about the same time.

Everyone in the group looked at everyone else with varying degrees of confusion and panic.

"Oh brother," muttered Clint.

* * *

They'd scrounged all possible locations within the hour and finally regrouped at the park by the river.

"They said they'd be here," said Steve, raking his fingers through his hair in stress and slight panic. "But nobody has seen them, security can't tell us anything..."

"Maybe they went window shopping?" Natasha asked, but she doubted her own suggestion.

Tony was in flight in the Iron Man suit, and he spotted something unusual as he flew past the Arch.

"Hey, guys?" he sent over the team comm links. "Look up."

They did. A tiny red dot near the top of the Arch was Peter Parker.

Tony descended next to the teen fast asleep with a textbook open face-down on his chest and began to poke his cheek. "Hey. Hey, kid. Kid, wake up."

Peter stirred, rubbed his eyes under the mask as he breathed in deeply, and then turned to see Tony. "Oh," he said sleepily. "Hey, Mr. Stark. I, uh, finished my homework."

"That's great, kid. Decided to take a nap on a national landmark?"

"What?" asked Peter, before he almost leaned over too far and slipped out of his web hammock. Peter jerked back and held on for dear life as it started to swing. "Whoa!" he blurted, fully awake now. "Yeah. That's—that's right. Forgot about that."

"Yeah, pack it up, time to go," said Tony. "Buckaroo, you up?"

A groan from the top of the Arch answered him. "Five more minutes," the ex-assassin growled, rolling over and covering his face with his arm.

By then, Peter had stuffed and zipped up his backpack.

"All right, see you at the bottom," said Tony, then started to grab Peter. "Come on, Pete."

"Whoa. Okay." Peter shrugged on his backpack and held on to the Iron Man suit as Tony carried him down. "Thanks for the ride!"

Bucky growled and rolled to his feet. "A'ight, fine," he slurred.

He took off with a running start across the top of the Arch, dropped into a baseball slide at the start of the curve, and rode the wall down until he landed with a bang on the pavement at the bottom, both knees bent and the metal arm to stable him.

When he stood up, Captain America stood in front of him with his arms crossed and a subtle smirk on his face.

"And you told _me_ not to do anything stupid," said Steve.

* * *

** A/N: If you thought the shopping cart was a weird place to fall asleep, I'll do you one better! Peter Parker has been pretty frequently requested—by Candaru, guest reviewer "Sheriff Wood-E", and Li'l Order, who helped me write this little fic—and I figured it was time to bring in the web boy. Thanks so much!**

**If there's anything you'd like to see me write, keep the requests coming! ****Reviews are web hammocks.**


	9. In weighted blankets

_In weighted blankets_

It was Bucky's first Christmas in the Tower—first Christmas in a long time, really—and he didn't quite know what to expect.

He knew that they'd celebrated Christmas...well, _before_. Steve told him about it with abandon, and as the department stores began to load up on tinsel and ornaments and a great many things colored red, green, and white, there began to pop up memories like whispers at the back of his mind.

He and Steve were out shopping one day when the fir trees near the garden section brought up a quick glimpse of _the sting of wind-whipped snow biting his nose, and the crunch of his boots through the whiteness, and a man with dark hair and a wood ax leading the way, leaving behind deep footprints for his little feet to wade through..._

He'd tugged Steve's sleeve and shyly asked about the memory. They stood figuring it out for a second before Steve grinned and explained, "Your pa. His name was George. Every year for Christmas he'd go out and cut down his own tree, and I guess he took you with him. Maybe this was the first time. Sounds like you were plenty little."

Bucky nodded, his nose and eyebrows wrinkling. _George._ _My...my father_. He wished he could remember the man's face.

* * *

The big day dawned...well, pretty late in the morning, actually, because no one wanted to get out of bed early on Christmas. Nobody, that is, except Steve, who had been up preparing breakfast for hours when the rest of the Avengers stumbled and shuffled sleepily down to the Common Floor.

"Merry Christmas!" Steve said brightly once they were all there.

"Happ' Han'kahh," Tony slurred as he reached for the coffee pot. He slightly missed and ended up groping around with his eyes half-shut before slumping on the counter.

"Here, Tony," Bruce said with a sigh and gently moved him aside to pour a mug for him.

"Th'nkz, Brucie-Bear," Tony mumbled.

"I do look forward to the celebrations of your Midgardian holiday," said Thor, already mounding his plate with sausage, eggs, ham, and two cinnamon rolls. "Last year was quite enjoyable."

"Let's just try not to burn anything this time, huh, boys?" asked Natasha as she plucked a plate off the pile.

"That's why I'm cooking," Steve said with a wink.

Thor shook in booming laughter. "Indeed."

"I figured we could all eat breakfast and open presents around the tree," continued Steve, shuffling more pancakes onto a platter already mounded with them.

Clint grabbed a pancake with his bare hand, folded it into a taco shape and took a big bite. "You're really gonna let us eat somewhere besides the table?"

He'd said it with his mouth full, and Natasha swatted his arm.

"It's Christmas," Steve said with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

That's when the elevator doors opened and a very tired and slightly confused Bucky Barnes shambled out and stared at the gathering in the kitchen.

Everybody stared back for a second before Tony, now more lucid after downing half his mug, poured some more coffee into a Santa mug and held it out to Bucky. "Need z'um?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Bucky stared for a moment longer, then ducked his chin slightly, stepped forward, and carefully took the mug in both hands. "Thank you," he whispered, holding it close.

Steve grinned and went back to flipping pancakes.

* * *

Boxes were opened, packaging destroyed, and torn wrapping paper scattered among half-eaten plates of breakfast food before the gift-giving was done. It took all of Steve's self-control not to wince at the wastefulness of tearing the paper—his ma always warned him to save it for the next year—but he had to remember that he wasn't scraping by to survive anymore, and a little indulgence is fine once in a while.

It was near the end that Bruce stood up and announced in his quiet voice, "All right. My turn. But I'll need some help."

Steve and Thor had volunteered, and they disappeared into a closet, where Bruce had hidden six identical boxes in snow globe wrapping paper. Thor insisted on taking three, Steve got two, and Bruce carried the last one.

Steve couldn't help but notice the weight of the boxes, despite the fact that they made no noise when they were lifted. "What's in these?" he asked, before he realized the silliness of that question.

Bruce smiled, and for once, there was almost a twinkle of mischief behind his round glasses. "That's what you're going to find out."

They returned to the common area and passed out the boxes according to the names on the tags. Steve felt his heart swell and ache at the same time when he saw the meek, wondering look on Bucky's face as Bruce handed him his own box.

Bruce sat back down and picked up his plate of pancakes. "Okay," he said. "Now you can open them."

They all did. Steve was surprised to open his box and find folded, baby blue fabric inside.

"What the...?" Tony trailed off, staring into his box.

Clint gave a little bark of laughter and lifted the blanket out of the box. "How did you know purple is my favorite color? Dang, that's heavy," he added, weighing the fabric in his hands.

Natasha pulled up a corner of the blanket. It was a soft, dandelion yellow. A tiny smile broke across her face.

"It's a weighted blanket," Bruce explained quietly. "I have one for...you know. It's good for stress. Figured with our job...we could all use one."

"Wonderful!" Thor swung the golden blanket over his shoulders and tugged it close. "This is most comforting," he added sincerely. "A splendid idea, Doctor Banner."

"Is this reverse psychology to try to get me to sleep more?" asked Tony, but he'd pulled the firetruck red blanket over his shoulders too.

"Maybe," Bruce said unconvincingly.

Bucky had pulled the navy blue blanket out of his box and was running his flesh hand down the surface of it, looking lost in the soft texture.

"Oh, yeah." Clint had burrito'd himself in the lavender blanket and rolled over on the floor. "I could get used to this."

"Thanks, Bruce," said Natasha. She draped the blanket over her lap and tucked it up under her arms.

"I second that," said Steve, taking a cue from the others and draping his blanket over his shoulders.

When he looked up, Bucky had put his over his head like a hood. Steve chuckled, and Bucky glanced at him before turning away, blushing.

"Glad you all like them," said Bruce with a smile.

* * *

The navy blue blanket went on to be Bucky's favorite thing. It got dragged all over Steve's floor in the Tower, wherever Bucky wanted to sleep that night, and even though he insisted on washing it frequently as a matter of practice, Steve couldn't have been happier.

"It feels like you," Bucky whispered once, one night, when he was bundled up in navy blue to keep out the chill and the bad memories.

"Hm?" asked Steve, half asleep with his arm draped over Bucky.

Bucky hadn't exactly answered, simply sticking his nose into the blanket and taking a deep, low breath. "Smells like you too," he mumbled.

It took Steve a minute to understand what he meant, but when he did, his smile was lost in the gentle darkness.

* * *

It was some time later, when Bucky was in a different headspace, that two more boxes were opened on Christmas Day, and a lightning-blue and deep burgundy blanket emerged.

"_Č__o?_" asked Pietro, staring at the gift.

"It's heavy!" said Wanda, draping it around her shoulders.

"Everyone in the Tower has one," said Bucky, the smile on his face half a smirk. "S' good for nightmares." He jabbed a thumb at himself. "Tested and approved."

Pietro had looked thoughtful for a second, then thrown the blue blanket over his head. He and Wanda grinned at each other before rolling over laughing.

"_Ďakujem, Kubko!_ Thank you much!" said Wanda between her laughter.

"Yours?" asked Pietro. He'd rolled his blanket around himself and was now lying on his stomach. "Where is it?"

Bucky couldn't stop the wide grin that spread on his face.

And that's how Steve found Bucky, Pietro, and Wanda cocooned in blankets under the Christmas tree, all fast asleep.

* * *

**A/N: I know it's the middle of the summer, but this suggestion from Princess Starberry was just too delightful for me to wait! I guess this is a ret-con that the navy blue blanket in chapter two was actually the weighted one that Bruce gave to Bucky. Yes, I'm allowed to ret-con my own story.**

**If there's anything you'd like to see, keep the suggestions coming! Reviews are gifts.**

**EDIT, 8/8/20: **See, this is why we keep back-up documents of our stories. Changed Wanda's dialogue from "_bratku_" to "_Kubko_", a Slovak nickname for James, for continuity reasons within the Remembered AU...


	10. In a meeting

_In a meeting_

The hunt for Loki's scepter was grueling. The Avengers knew that HYDRA had it—the only question was, which base? As the Triskellion leak directed them, and information in one hideout led to another, HYDRA bases popped up like ticks all over the continents of Europe and North America, and even into the surrounding land.

Avengers missions to take down these HYDRA bases was incessant. Steve finally understood the meaning of "cut off one head, two shall take its place." Boy, was that mantra annoyingly accurate.

One dreadful day, they were actually called in to do back-to-back missions. They'd just flown in from northern Russia and were severely jetlagged when Nicholas J. "No Longer the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D." Fury called them in to his secret definitely-not-a-S.H.I.E.L.D. base for another briefing.

All of the Avengers were half-asleep. It would have been the middle of the night in Russia. But while the others could guzzle coffee and be at least a little coherent—Tony was actually in the best shape, given his penchant for all-nighters—Bucky and Steve, with their wonderful enhanced metabolisms, burned off all the caffeine within seconds.

And that is why two super-soldiers fell asleep at the conference table while Nick Fury himself was talking.

"Intel has provided us the layout of the facility," Fury was saying, pacing in front of a holographic projector, "which is fortified as you can see here—"

Off to one corner with her arms crossed, Maria Hill quietly cleared her throat.

Fury glanced at her, Maria nodded sternly at the table, and Fury turned, paused, and glared daggers at what he saw. "Can someone wake them up, please?" he asked, his tone less kind than his words.

The rest of the Avengers, processing his words, turned to look. Bucky had fallen asleep with his elbow on the table and cheek bunched over his fist, but Steve was actually sitting upright, his eyes shut and chin dipped slightly towards his chest. Both were clearly far out of it.

Tony and Clint badly covered their chuckles with coughs and sniffs. Bruce had turned away, and Thor hid his face behind his fist.

"With all due respect, sir, we're all exhausted from the last mission," said Natasha, keeping a straight face and a smooth voice like only a spy can. "Unless you're certain there's a deadline on this bust, a respite might be in order to get us up to fighting capacity."

Fury glanced over his shoulder at Hill. Hill raised her eyebrows.

Fury sighed roughly. "I've got information that the base plans to exchange goods with another one sometime this week. The longer we wait, the more we risk losing the Scepter." He glared at Steve and Bucky again, but this time the fire in his single eye wasn't as harsh. "But you're clearly in no condition to get anything done right this moment. Dismissed. I expect to see you back here in forty-eight hours."

"Thank you, sir," answered Natasha, smoothly getting up from her chair so that she could turn her back to Fury and hide her smirk.

Fury left the room, trench-coat gliding behind him, and the other Avengers heaved themselves upright one by one.

"Well, back to Tower sweet Tower. I need an espresso," muttered Tony.

Hill pulled out a small device that Natasha recognized, pointed it at Steve, pressed a button, and then slid it back into her sleeve.

Natasha raised both eyebrows at Hill. Hill quirked one, then walked out of the room.

That was super-spy for, "If I just took a picture of a grown man and a national hero asleep in his chair, what is that to you?"

Natasha had to smile. She smiled more when, about an hour later, a mysterious picture showed up on her phone from an unknown number, and when Bucky and Steve nearly died of embarrassment as she explained the story.

* * *

**A/N: Both Princess Starberry and Mellia Bee thought of this one at separate times, and I am happy to oblige! Fury is furious. Get it?**

**ANNOUNCEMENT: I plan to continue updating Sleep until the end of August, when schedule changes will make it harder to keep up consistent updates. That's four more drabbles left after this one! If there are any requests you're dying to see, get them in now!**

**Reviews are secret sleeve spy-cams.**


	11. On the couch II

_On the couch II (Sick day)_

Evening had fallen at Avengers HQ. Bucky was alone in the common room, curled up in his favorite spot on one of the couches, with only a book and the quiet to keep him company.

It was nice. After hectic days of training (and the occasional battle), a little quiet was a welcome respite for him. The usual commotion of the day had died down to a low purr, distant sounds and conversations hovering at the edge of his enhanced hearing, but not close enough to pull him out of absorption in his book.

He didn't look up immediately when a figure moved into the kitchen adjacent to the common room, but he made note of it in his peripheral vision. Old training died hard, after all. But he did start to get curious when no further kitchen-like sounds of cabinets banging or dishes clattering or the faucet turning on followed the motion. He turned to look.

To his surprise and alarm, there was Wanda, bent over the counter with her head in her hands.

"_R__uža?_" he whispered, trying not to startle her, and was immediately on his feet. He was at her side within moments, with a hand on her back. "What's wrong?"

"Mmn..." Wanda moved her head lethargically, still propping it in her hand. To Bucky's relief, her eyes weren't red as if she'd been crying, but there was a dullness in them that he found concerning. "Oh. Sorry." Her voice was faint, almost scratchy, as she tried to straighten up. "Didn't know you were here..."

"It's okay," he assured her gently, and let his hand slide off her back. He'd been too much in a rush to notice she was already dressed in her pajamas, with a fluffy magenta nightgown over that. It was a bit early to be in bed already... "You need something?"

Anything she was about to say was cut short when, upon standing up, Wanda winced and brought a shaky hand up to her forehead.

"Headache, huh?" Bucky made a low noise of sympathy and started to rummage in the medicine cabinet. The asprin had to be in there somewhere...

"It's fine," she whispered back. Her voice was thin, as if she was having trouble breathing. "I just came for a drink." She lifted her head and reached for the overhead cabinets, but must have done it too fast because she immediately moaned and put her head back in her hands, a grimace on her face.

"Whoa, easy," Bucky blurted, moving to her side.

Something squeezed in his chest when she gave a single, choked sob.

Wanda slowly stood up, shaking on her feet, the heel of her hand pressed to one eye and the other arm around her middle. "Ow..."

"Aw, doll..." Bucky was wincing in sympathy, but his mind was on overdrive. Was she hurt? Sick? On deep-set instinct, he reached for her forehead to get a temperature, and when she didn't protest but leaned into the palm of his hand and shut her eyes, he could feel the heat pouring off of her.

"You're sick," he whispered. He could hear the Brooklyn coming out a little more in his accent—something was bubbling up within him, something from those days long ago when Steve was tiny and sickly and one cough away from death in the winter.

He whisked a glass out of the cabinet and the milk jug out of the fridge, poured a glass, and then unscrewed the ibuprofin bottle and popped a tablet into the lid. All the while, he was ranting, "Why din'cha just ask someone for help? Plenty a' people around here, shouldn't have t' get outta bed in a state like this. Hell, where's Pietro? Punk oughta have his brother license revoked, can't even take care a' his own sister when she's sick..."

Wanda still shook on her feet slightly and leaned against the counter for support, but she was smiling, and weak, tiny little laughs escaped her. "Really, I'm fine. It's not that bad..."

"Not that bad, my left foot." The anger had lessened a bit, and his voice was gentler but still firm, as he handed her the lid of the medicine bottle. "Here, take this. Wash it down with the milk. You eaten anything lately?"

"No..." Wanda murmured around the tablet in her mouth as she took the glass from his hand.

"That's what I thought." Bucky took the lid back and screwed it back on the bottle with a pop, muttering to himself. "I swear I do everything around here. Here, go sit down. You need an ice pack or anything? Heat pack? I think we have one that does both dependin' on what you stick it in."

"No, really, it's fine." Wanda had obeyed and left with the glass of milk in her hand, but as she sank into one of the couches she was doing the weak wheeze-laugh again.

"You're sure?" He continued to bang around the kitchen, putting things away. "Don't say it's fine if it isn't. I've wrestled a deathly sick Steve Rogers into takin' care of himself and let me tell ya, you haven't lived until you've wrestled a toothpick with a fever and the temper of a wet cat in'ta bed for his own good."

Wanda laughed harder. It sounded wrong, because she was mostly gasping for enough breath to do it, but it was a happy sound anyway.

Something about that made him feel warm and full and good; made him slow down and smile at her over his shoulder.

"A wet cat..." Wanda had laid her head on the top of the backrest, and she rolled it slightly to look at him. "Maybe an ice pack," she said in a small voice.

"Done," said Bucky, and he reached for the freezer.

When he returned with the ice pack, Wanda had shut her eyes in an uneasy rest. The glass of milk sat on the side table, a few sips empty.

He slid a coaster underneath the glass, gently set the ice pack on her head, and sat down beside her to pick up his book. The ice pack slid down a little over Wanda's eye, and she smiled and adjusted it.

"_Ďakujem_," she whispered in her shaky voice.

"_Si vítaný_," he answered, low and sincere, and he had to smile.

She leaned over slightly and nestled her head on his shoulder, and he frowned in concern when he felt her cheek press against metal. "Is...is that comfortable?" he asked, and was a little embarrassed at how nervous he sounded. "Do you want the other side?"

"_Nie_, it's all right," she whispered, and rolled until her temple was pressed against the steel. "It's cool to the touch." Her voice came out as a far-away sigh. "Feels good."

Something in him felt odd and fluttery at the sound of that, like someone had stuck a hummingbird inside of him that was beating its wings a million times a second. The feeling made him panic for a moment, so he just pushed it away and tried to ignore it.

But he couldn't ignore that Wanda was lying on him, using his arm as an ice pack. And now that he checked, she was asleep.

He had to smile, and gently pushed a strand of brown hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. She didn't wake up.

"_Dobre spi a sladké sny, ruža_," he whispered, and slowly picked up his book so as not to jostle or wake her. _Sleep well and sweet dreams._

* * *

When Steve returned from his evening jog, Bucky was fast asleep, an open book almost falling out of his fingers and Wanda asleep on his shoulder. Steve smiled, stole Bucky's book from his hand to bookmark it and set it aside, and then left to get a blanket.

Bucky woke up a few hours later with a crick in his neck, his book on the nearby side table, and a blanket wrapped around him and the slumbering Wanda Maximoff on his shoulder.

Bucky had to smile. He was okay with that.

* * *

**A/N: So Princess Starberry suggested somebody using Bucky's metal arm as an ice pack when they're sick, but she also wanted to see a little soft WinterWitch. I am happy to oblige! I'm not a big shipper, but WinterWitch is one of my favorites.**

**All Sokovian is Slovak, at the mercy of Google Translate. _Ďakujem_ means "thank you",_ si vítaný_ means "you're welcome", _nie_ means "no" or "nope", and _ruža_ means "rose".**

**Suggestions are closed. Three more shorts to go! Reviews are books.**


	12. On the kitchen counter

_On the kitchen counter_

Steve took his role as leader of the Avengers very seriously. It could be said that he took it more seriously than a lot of things in his life, but that would be a slight exaggeration because Steve tended to take most things far too seriously, to Bucky's everlasting chagrin.

It was because he took everything so seriously that he was often up late at night formulating training exercises and battle strategies based on the abilities of their ever-growing roster of recruits. It was all well and good when it had been just the six of them running around—the roles were clear, the strengths and weaknesses established. Hulk smashed, Clint shot things with arrows, Tony shot things with lasers, Thor shot things with lightning, Natasha shot things with guns, and Steve ran around throwing a patriotic frisbee and giving orders.

But now, with the growing power sets of their new recruits, there were far more factors to consider. Bucky excelled as a sniper alongside Clint, but he was also exceptional at hand-to-hand. Wilson, Rhodes, and Vision more than doubled the air coverage, where only Tony and Thor had the corner market before. With Pietro they had maximized mobility; with Wanda, maximized firepower; with Vision, a computer's precision and a flying laser, _and the man could melt through walls_.

Peter had proven his character well by handling the Vulture incident, and with a little bit more experience, Steve figured he could be ready for the team at any time—but that was a whole other set of powers to work into their strategies. The complication only compounded—in a good way, but still in a confusing one—when they had outside help.

And all that stress was probably why the Avengers woke up one morning to find their fearless leader Steve Rogers slumped over on a bar stool in the HQ kitchen, fast asleep with a mug of (now lukewarm) coffee by his head, and the papers scattered over the kitchen counter for a pillow.

Needless to say, much snickering was had. Pietro left to retrieve a Sharpie, but Bucky caught him just in time and quickly made it clear to all the Avengers that anyone who drew anything lewd or unsanitary on Steve would have to answer to the Winter Soldier.

But he didn't disallow any fun in general, so everyone found different ways to go ham.

Wanda gently influenced Steve's mind to stay asleep while Pietro drew a curly mustache on him with the Sharpie. Clint retrieved an assortment of colored marshmallow peeps left over from Easter (preservatives are terrifying but wonderful things) and scattered them over Steve's paperwork for no apparent reason.

Sam found a tiny placard saying "out to lunch" and propped it up against the coffee mug. Bucky himself wrote on a piece of paper, "this is what happens when I try to do work instead of sleeping", rolled it up into a cone hat, and gingerly placed it on Steve's head.

Natasha, for her part, simply took pictures at a perfect angle to capture every possible detail of Steve's humiliation. Finally, Tony set up a camera and tasked Vision with carrying out the oldest trick in the book—put whip cream on Steve's open palm, tickle his face with a feather, and then phase through the wall to make his escape.

The raucous laughter from the team when Steve slapped whip cream on his own face could probably be heard from all the way across the HQ where they were hiding, but it was Steve's bewilderment with the peeps and anger when he read the cone hat that really did them in.

The story went down in infamy in Avengers history, passed in giggle-cracked whispers from one hero to another, but each and every one swore that the details of the "kitchen counter incident" would never be shared to anyone outside the initiated circle. Allies of the Avengers wondered for years what is this mysterious "incident" of which the Avengers spoke in cryptic brevity, and why Steve Rogers either glared or tiredly rolled his eyes whenever it was mentioned.

Natasha secretly set the picture as Steve's phone lockscreen a few months later, and she never more relished an expression of seething, fiery anger as she did in that very moment.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I know I said suggestions are closed, but when a guest suggested "on the kitchen counter", the result was just too delightful for me not to write. **If you are that guest, hi! Nice to meet a fellow LotR fan! I'm afraid I can't take general requests right now with my schedule, and I've really got to read LotR again before I write any fic for it...but if you want to see a little of how I write Science Bros, feel free to check out Chapter 2 of The Run and Go, or Brain Buddies!

**Suggestions are closed. Two more shorts to go! Reviews are marshmallow peeps.**


	13. In a hammock

_In a hammock_

Tony would deny later that it had been his idea, claiming it was closer along the lines of "consensus among the trainees—meaning the kid bugged me, so how was I supposed to get out of it?" But everyone who attended the Avengers' beach party—on a beautiful stretch of Florida resort shoreline that Tony had entirely bought out for the day—later called it a rollicking success.

"Last one to the water is a rotten egg!" shouted Peter Parker. No sooner did he say it than a blue blur sliced past him, kicking up sand in its wake until it hit the waves with a splash.

Pietro stood up with a gasp and shook the salt water out of his hair. "You were saying?" he shouted back.

"Hey, no fair!" Peter yelled back. He was already halfway to the water.

Wanda gingerly lifted herself up on red energy and then went flying past Peter, a big grin on her face.

"No fair squared!" shouted Peter.

Vision, having materialized a pair of swim trunks to fit in with everyone else, flew after Wanda with a barely perceptible smirk.

"No—no fair cubed!"

With a roar, Thor ran up behind Peter and scooped him up on one shoulder. Peter yelped and scrambled to find his balance, and Thor just bellowed in laughter and kept running. "Take heart! We will be eggs together, little spider!" he cried.

"Whoa, that's really fast—no no no no!" yelped Peter, before a crash of salt water interrupted him.

Wanda yelped and shielded her face from the spray. Pietro charged away through the water, and Vision lifted up into the air to be out of range. A second later, two heads came up for air, and everyone was laughing—including Thor, whose hair and beard were sopping wet, and Peter, who sat in the waves and couldn't stand up, he was laughing so hard.

Natasha stretched out on a blanket to tan on the sand, sunglasses and a sun hat firmly in place. Bruce took a spot beside her with a book to read, completely covered with a rash guard and enough sunscreen to kill a man. Rhodey was walking better in the leg braces, but Tony had made sure that he had a beach chair and umbrella before anything else, and he'd already taken off the braces and set them aside, a cool drink in hand instead. Sam sat nearby, alternating between chatting with Rhodey and blowing up a beach ball.

Clint had insisted on bringing a barbecue grill and propane, despite Tony's promises of catering, and was already grilling hot-dogs and burgers some distance from the water. "They taste better when you do them yourself!" he'd claimed, and everyone left him alone after that.

And Bucky had decided to stay a distance from the madness, lounging on a hammock in the shade.

Tony had taken the other hammock beside him, apparently asleep—though by the tiny smirk on his face, Bucky guessed that he was still awake to hear everything. He really did look content; didn't even bother to cover the arc reactor, or the scarring around it.

It made Bucky feel a little better about the metal arm at his side.

"Hey. Scoot."

Bucky didn't realize his eyes had drifted shut until he opened them. He noticed, with a noncommittal grunt, that it was Steve standing over him, with a trouble-making gleam in his eye.

"Why'd I do that?" Bucky growled back.

"I want the hammock."

"Get'cher own."

"You got the last one."

Bucky shut his eyes and put his flesh arm over them to block Steve out. "I ain't movin', punk. Jus' got here. Go get in the water or somethin'."

Bucky wasn't sure what he was expecting Steve to do after that. Maybe keep arguing, or pause for a moment before he gave up bothering him and left to join the others.

What he _wasn't_ expecting was to hear, "All right, you asked for it," and then to suddenly be crushed under all two hundred and forty pounds of Steve Rogers.

Bucky grunted in annoyance and pushed Steve's arm out of his face. "Steve, what the hell?"

Steve's head was on Bucky's shoulder, turned away from him. "You said you're not gonna move."

"So you—geez, you're heavy." He tugged his arm out from where it was pinned under Steve.

"It's all muscle and patriotism. Like Barton says."

"I hate you."

Steve chuckled, but he didn't move. Bucky was too stubborn to admit defeat and too lazy to fight over it, so instead he just surrendered to the mild discomfort of the ropes of the hammock now digging into his back and let himself drift back towards sleep.

He'd get Steve back for this later.

He wasn't sure how long it had been later when he heard a creak and a snap, and then all of the sudden he was on the ground and Steve landed on him, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Holy—" Tony rolled over, pulling the sunglasses down with wide eyes. "How did you—?"

Bucky was still coughing when Steve sprang to his feet. "Oh god. Oh god, I'm sorry. Buck, are you okay?" he asked in a panic.

Bucky massaged a bruised rib with a groan, then glared bloody murder up at Steve.

Steve went pale—well, paler than he already was.

Tony started to snicker, then slid the sunglasses back into place. "I'd start running if I were you, Rogers."

"Ten seconds, Steve," rasped Bucky, exaggerating his anger as best he could. "Ten seconds before I hunt you down and _rip your head off!_"

Steve's blanched look had turned into a sharkish grin, and he took off at record speeds over the sand as Bucky leaped up, roaring, and chased him into the water.

The resulting splash would have made world records, had anyone been around to see it.

All in all, a rollicking success.

* * *

**A/N: Sleep now qualifies as a proper anime! Get it? 'Cause it's a beach episode? Okay.**

**Suggestions are closed. One more short to go! Reviews are beach balls.**

* * *

**Special message for Raven: **AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH okay I hope you see this, but in case you don't I'll leave a little note at the end of the next update pointing you back here. I meant to tag this message on to the end of the doc, but by the time I published the new chapter, I forgot...you're just too fast!

Seriously, I love you. I got home late after work on Monday and found three of your reviews before I went to bed, and then I woke up Tuesday morning and there were four more! You have no idea how happy this makes me. You are awesome, and very well-spoken for a middle-schooler!

Your character analysis of Bucky in "Thursdays" is spot-on. Seriously, never feel bad for rambling about these characters in my reviews! It makes me happy to see people who have similar interpretations to mine.

The pictures of the FunkoPOP figures should be visible if you pull up the site on a computer. There also might be a "request desktop site" button at the bottom of the screen so you can see it on your ipod. I have them set as the cover photos for "A Slice of Cake", "To Break a Noble Face", and "Just Because You're Made of Steel". They are adorable and I love them.

We can always use more fluff! I want to hug Bucky and Steve and all of these characters too. I think that's why I write Bucky and Steve hugging each other so much, because I have to give them those hugs somehow.

Again, you're amazing. I wish you had an account so I could PM you and chat. Putting stuff in these A/N's is obviously not terribly reliable. LOL! But thank you for your continued reviews! I'll keep posting stuff as often as I can so I can hear from you!


	14. On the couch III

_On the couch III (with a baby)_

There were times that Bucky was sure he'd never get out from under the shadow of what had been done to him. There were days that the voices in his head screamed too loud, or the nightmares were too real, and he could still feel the kickback of a gun in his hand that he never should have had to fire. There were days when he was sure he would never be truly free.

And then, there were days like today.

It was a late summer evening, and the fireflies were out and the crickets and cicadas chirping in the humid night air. The embers of a campfire were just burning down in the backyard of the Barton house, and if he looked out the window, Bucky could see a small tent illuminated from the inside by a flashlight. The shadows of three figures were projected on the tent walls—and if he listened closely, his enhanced hearing could pick up Lila and Cooper giggling as Clint told them an animated story about the time that the Avengers fought aliens in New York.

Bucky was inside. Laura Barton was washing dishes in the kitchen nearby—Bucky had helped out until he was taking up too much space in the tiny kitchen to be useful, and then he'd been banished to the living room. And he was holding the baby, Nathaniel.

Bucky wasn't altogether sure how that had happened. It was late—far past the little guy's bedtime, apparently—and Nathaniel had been fussing and whining in his playpen until Laura went to pick him up. She bounced him, calmed him down, and then handed him off to Bucky, saying that she needed to finish things up in the kitchen.

"But I—I can't..." Bucky had stammered, backing up slightly with his hands lifted. He could hear the whirring in his metal arm in the night's quiet.

"Can't what?" asked Laura, very seriously looking him straight in the eyes.

Bucky swallowed hard.

Surely, she knew what he had done. Clint told her everything. She knew what the metal arm at his side was, and what it had been used for, and what it represented.

She had to know the weapon that he'd become.

Laura was still bouncing the baby, and she looked down at her son fondly. "Do you know who he's named after?" she asked.

"Pietro," answered Bucky.

"Yes. And his first name?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Natasha."

"You didn't say the Black Widow." Laura's smile was tight and gentle and _knowing_.

Bucky felt the world grind to a halt for a moment.

Laura stepped forward and said softly, as if she was trying not to wake the baby, "Clint's got things he's not proud of too. But he'd be the first to tell you...you're more than that. You're more than what you were forced to do."

He stood there for a moment with the crickets and cicadas and let that simple, gentle truth sink in for a moment.

Laura took Nathaniel into her hands and pressed him against Bucky's chest. "Just hold him," she said simply. "He's good with people."

Bucky had opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out, and his metal arm found its way underneath the baby and his flesh hand up to support the downy little head by his shoulder. He'd stared at Laura for a second, wordlessly.

She'd smiled at him and then left for the kitchen, and that's where she was now.

So Bucky was stuck, holding the baby. Nathaniel had fallen asleep on his mother's shoulder, and Bucky found himself pacing quietly across the living room floor to keep him that way.

His mind was whirling. This was crazy. This was insane. Someone had trusted him enough to hand their baby to the Winter Soldier.

No—not to the Soldier. To him.

To Bucky.

It made him at once feel like crying and like conquering the moon.

He sat down on the couch eventually, when Nathaniel's breathing had settled down into a nearly silent purr. He pulled his chin back a little to see the face of the baby sleeping on his shoulder.

Nathaniel had soft blonde eyelashes, round cheeks, and Clint's fat nose.

Bucky had to laugh a little to himself.

The night wore on. Laura finished washing up and left the kitchen. Bucky lay down on his back on the couch, and Nathaniel kept sleeping.

Bucky dozed off eventually too, listening to the tiny little heartbeat right beside his own.

* * *

"So he just fell asleep?"

"Yep."

"With the baby on him?"

"Yep."

Clint and Laura stood in the living room, talking in whispers. Bucky Barnes was asleep on their couch. And asleep on Bucky Barnes was their son, Nathaniel. They'd already had Lila and Cooper wash up and go to bed, and now the house was quiet.

Laura turned to Clint with a glimmer of pride in her eye. Clint smirked and held up his hand. Laura tapped her palm against his for the quietest high-five ever.

"Nice work, Laura."

They sneaked upstairs before either of the slumbering ones could realize they were there.

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**A/N: A guest suggested Bucky asleep, anywhere, with Nathaniel on his chest. I couldn't resist a little bittersweet introspection to close out this summer fic.**

**This has been fun! Thanks so much for your suggestions and reviews. Sorry to everyone who didn't get their request done; I tried to get in everyone I could. I hope you all had a good summer, and that you'll check back soon for more fics from me. And just because I love you all, there's a little bonus epilogue coming after this...**

**Reviews are fireflies.**

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**Special message for Raven:** Hi! Boy, you review fast. In case you haven't seen it yet, I left you a little message at the end of the last chapter—I tried to cover all the reviews you left for me last week. Thanks again!

I can't really take credit for my snarky sense of humor, haha! It runs in the family. But according to the official wiki, Steve weighs 240 pounds, and we all know he's made of muscle and patriotism!


	15. Epilogue: Waking up

_Waking up (canon compliant)_

Steve woke up on his back to heat and humidity and a soft light, like shadows cast by sunlight. He could feel a weight on the crook of his left arm—and by the sound of the breath he knew even without opening his eyes that it was Bucky, pillowed on his arm and slumbering beside him. The heavy fabric of Steve's leather jacket was draped over the two of them like a little blanket.

The shadows were shifting overhead. Steve rolled over and groggily opened his eyes, blinking against the intermittent sunlight—and almost jumped when he saw, bending over him, a child, with dark skin and eyes painted in white and yellow.

Bucky grunted, presumably wakened by Steve's body moving, and he cracked an eye open. No sooner did he see their company than he waved the kids away. "_Hlukana nam. Kusasa kakhulu_," he groaned, rolling over and burying his face into Steve's chest.

The Wakandan children ran out of the hut, pushing each other and giggling. _"Sukuphazamisa ingcuka emhlophe!_" they called to each other once they were out of the hut.

"Buck?" asked Steve, his mind still groggy from sleep.

"'S happens a lot," Bucky muttered by way of explanation. "They think 's funny. Need a door..."

Not five minutes later, he was back to snoring in Steve's chest.

Steve stared up at the thatch roof, the Wakandan humidity and his friend's body heat pressing in like a blanket on his skin. It was nice out here. Quiet. Peaceful.

Steve took a deep breath in, let it out, and smiled.

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**A/N: Whoo, Wakanda! Okay, now I'm done for real.**

**All Wakandan is Xhosa, at the mercy of Google Translate. _S_**_**ukuphazamisa ingcuka emhlophe **_**means, of course, "Don't disturb the White Wolf", and _Hlukana nam. Kusasa kakhulu _translates to "Leave me alone. It's very early."**

**Reviews are jacket blankets!**

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**A message for Raven: **You did great! Reviews are the lifeblood of authors, to be sure. It's a pleasure to meet a fellow Christian, Marvel, and LotR fan! I hope that someday you're able to see those pictures.

We didn't get much of the Barton family in the MCU, but I adore the potential they have. Considering Clint's story and occupation, I think Laura would be the kind of person who knows how to deal with a lot. She's sweet and strong and I love her.

I'm glad I waited, because I just saw your review for Luke 15! Thank you so much for your compliments. I have literally nothing else to say, but Luke 15 is like my beloved baby and I just feel so warm and fuzzy inside whenever people say nice things about it. There's another fic I've been working on that examines in more detail how Steve and Bucky would deal with their faith after coming out of the ice...maybe just for you and the other Christians on this site that I know, I'll polish that up and post it.

Thanks again! I hope to see you soon when I post other stories. Take care and God bless!


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